


Clash of Wilds and Blood

by Jiggle_Physics



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multichapters, Slow Burn, Tumblr, long time, various POV, y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiggle_Physics/pseuds/Jiggle_Physics
Summary: When two men come to the castle you're visiting things become interesting. Even more when they're King Ragnar Lothbrok and his son, Ivar.





	1. The Cripple

You had come to visit your half-sister, a rare and delightful privilege to escape under the thumb of the King Aelle, they day had been simple and calm. Judith was settled into the corner as you reached over to put Alfred in check upon the board. The ‘clack’ echoed in the room of stone as you settled back in the chair with a smirk, Judith chuckled slightly at the sight. You were younger than your half-sister, a passing baroness that had taken the king to her bed was your lineage and Aelle had been forced to keep you on condition of her death, a new pawn to use in his political gain, marriage wasn’t suitable for your bastard birth at least for the moment. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would find some use for you and your wild nature. Refusing this and that, sneaking away to do as you pleased. 

Here though? Here was free, as free as you could muster at least. Ecbert cared little if you roamed the stone halls with feet bare, nor worried of hands that slipped knives and coin from various hips of the guards, the sharp tongue trading insults and wit. You could toss h/c locks over your shoulder loose without care, walk in the streets with the sun beating off your skin. It was amusing and in ways perhaps he encouraged it still thinking of you as Judith’s wide e/c eyed curious baby sister. Alfred’s groan brought you from musings as he slumped into the seat even further. 

“You cheated, i don’t know how but you cheated.” Judith laughed as you began to reset the board. 

“Pay more attention and you might win this time.” You chuckle was stopped short by yells and the distinct clang of metal, the soldiers, “Judith, Alfred, stay here.”

“Why do you get to g-” Judith silenced her son as you slipped from the room to look into the courtyard, Aethelwulf seemed to be parading around a man in worn clothes almost as if he’d been the one to pry the nails from Jesus’ hands and free him. 

The man’s beard was wiry and long, no hair graced his head showing tattoos, scars and age settled into the deep lines of his face. He looked unarmed, and tired. Behind them thrown over a horse was someone. Short black hair, broad shoulders, narrow hips and tossed unceremoniously over a horse. He was crippled. You couldn’t hear what was being shouted at the guards but he was roughly dragged down and off through the mud with the man. 

Aethelwulf looked up to see you blantly observing the scene. His scowl deepened at your condescending smile, he’d never like you. Mostly because of your complete disregard for anything he said to you and refusal to obey any rules he attempted to press.You raised a hand in a menial wave just to incite his anger further in attempt to sour any triumph he might have felt. He stormed off after them while you slipped back into the room where an egear Alfred and questioning Judith. 

“Aethelwulf is pompous as always but he’s parading around two men like they’re jewels.” Alfred chuckled at the tone of your voice but Judith frowned, “Oh, mind your face sister dearest, I’ll find out who they are for you.”

“You mean you’ll find out who they are for you.” The woman teased gently although you could tell she was just as curious and wary of who her husband had brought into the dungeons of the castle. 

“I’ll go too!” Alfred offered excitedly watching in growing suspense as you crossed your arms and jutted your hip to the side, “ I can be quiet, even you said I’m getting better! Besides I’m the one that King Ecbert likes more. I can get away with it!” 

“Alfred, that’s why y/n is going first.” -he looked distraught at his mother- “You may be your grandfather’s favorite but that means he’s all the more protective of you.”

“She’s a point.” You smiled gently, ruffling his brown hair, “Besides I’ll bring you to see who they are next, I promise. I wouldn’t want soot and dirt to soil those cheeks of yours by pressing against a dingy wall now would I?” 

He pushed your hands off his face with a grin, “Fine. But you promised.”

You pulled your hair back and straightened out the dress, tugging on the belt to make it flair more dramatically to your curves and stood straight. In the case that you couldn’t ‘persuade’ the guards with sultry looks and soft words you held a small coin purse with silver in it as you made your way down the halls. Servants moved by, some nodding in a greeting, others with curious looks as to why you were heading to the kitchens but to be seen going there would be a better story as to why you were absent from Judith. 

“And where do you think you’re off to, m’lady?” The voice caused you to freeze, it was on old one from childhood that had scolded and schooled you.

“Damn you old hag.” -you muttered under your breath before turning- “Off to the kitchens, Maude.”

“It’s a sin to lie, Y/N, besides we both know better.” The woman was old, you could swear that she was around when God was a little boy, with long grey hair ,that had remnants of black from her youth, pulled up tightly into a bun and judgmental green eyes that could stare into the soul of Satan and terrify him.

Maude had been one of the ‘possessions’ your mother had left you as an infant on King Aelle’s door, the woman was irritable, deceptively strong, sarcastic, and was never going to die. Not that you prayed for that, God’s sake no, but there were days when you wished she’d just look the other way. The crone seemed to always be at least three steps ahead of whatever you were thinking or what you were going to do, if you actually accomplished something successfully and smoothly it was because she hadn’t caught you. Or pretended to not have caught you. . . 

“I’m not lying, I am going to the kitchen.” She quirked up an eyebrow while once full lips tugged ever so slightly downwards.

“That so is it?” You mentally shuddered, she knew and she would open her mouth and you’d be sent back to Judith with your proverbial tail tucked between your legs, “I suggest you get some of the fresh bread. It’s still warm and other mouths might enjoy it, eh?”

A smile spread across your lips as she tilted a head, perhaps she was curious about the men too or maybe she was in a good mood? Whatever the reason you weren’t going to question it as you slipped away into the kitchens, the best place to learn what was going on. Everyone gossiped in the kitchens and no one minded you as King Aelle’s bastard child was still a bastard after all it was the perfect place to grab up something for Aethelwulf’s dubbed prisoners and see if anyone knew who they were. 

The smell of sweets, pies, roast, vegetables and bread wafted through the air making the sense of a home flood your being. It was alive with chatter, firewood crackling, dished banging, and tools cutting or preparing for tonight’s dinner. The gossip was far and wide from someone being pregnant, another losing their cow, a dragon spotted flying east and witchcraft being practiced with chicken blood. Useless.

“Lily!” The woman turned at your voice and smiled, already cutting off a hunk of warm bread for you to snatch up, “I’ve a question to ask.”, of course asking with a full mouth was rude but the bread was heated and had a hint of cinnamon to it.

“Oh I’m sure, tryin to rat out who’s who today m’lady?” Of course Lily knew, she knew everything, “They say the Lordships caught a King of the North.”

“You mean The King of the North, Ragnar Lothbrok?” You swallowed the bread harshly as she watch your e/c eyes widen in excitement, “Where is he at, who is the cripple, do you think I can get there?”

“Aye, they’re holding ‘im in the bottom dungeon. Don know ‘bout the cripple though, don’t think Lor’ Aethelwulf is all too worried wit him. Somethin not right bout ‘im, I think, he looked ready to kill when they brough ‘im in he did. Some bread for your huntin today?” She had already taken another large piece -too large for just you- in a cloth along with a closed cup of water.

You leaned over the table kissing one red cheek and dashed out with your prize. It would be easy to get into the dungeon this way so you weren’t seen by too many people, slip out of the back door of the kitchen, pick up your dress so the mud didn’t dirty it too much from walking behind the stabled, throw a rock to frighten the horses. One of the guards walked away from the door and you slipped out, making your hips sway more than they did you caught the remaining man’s attention. A lecherous thing with eyes locked on the way you moved. 

“I’ve come to see what the fuss is all about.” Being blunt with him didn’t worry you. 

“Dungeons no’ place for a lady.” He breathed out watching you bite your lower lip, eyes looking up from beneath long lashes.

“Who claimed I was a lady?” You kept one hand out of his sight that held your ‘treats’ the other tugged on the belt of his armor pulling him to you, “Even women of the night wear dresses good sir, would you like to find out which one I am?”

The guard swallowed uncertainly as you drew him closer, a smirk rising on your lips. One thing you’d learned from women of all kinds, men bow to them even if they didn’t want to admit it. The guard was a pawn in your chess game, he was yours to use. And you were going to. You had to roll up onto the tips of your toes to keep his seemingly hazed eyes on you instead of the reality of his situation for the moment. 

He leaned down enough for your lips to almost brushed his, “Of course you’d have to let me in, and be brave enough to go against King Ecbert.” He wasn’t listening instead a gloved hand squeezed your hip the metal gauntlet gripping harsh enough to make you wince, “After all, you did just leave marks on his beloved and defenseless daughter in law.”

That brought the guard back with a jerk and hiss, “I did no such thing.”

“That so? Shall I lift up my dress in a few hours to show how hard those gauntlets can be? To add salt to injury shall I run crying to my father-in-law at how you were talking nonsense? A noble woman like myself being trusted over a simple guard. Who would win his word, do you think?” You smiled, pleased with your work and how simple it had been, “Of course this could be looked over if you let me in.”

“Witch.” He spat out but opened the door nonetheless while you had to stop yourself from practically skipping in. 

Murky water pooled on some of  the stone steps making your feet echo occasionally in sloshes, you dare not touch the walls to steady yourself knowing that the green you could see in the low light dancing off the walls was not moss.

The deeper and deeper you’d trekked the colder it became, unwelcomed not that most dungeons were but the air was dank with death as some of the prisoners died in their cells of that you had no doubt. The maids told stories about the desperate calls of the tortured rising in the air with their haunting wails. You had to take a breath to steel yourself, you had wanted this and you were going to get it. Coming off the last step of the spiraling stone you saw him.

The cage was rusted and dangled a few feet above ground, the man was beaten, bloody, and nothing like you imagined the legend yet exactly what you imagined all at once. Ragnar Lothbrok was a man, you knew that, he would bleed if he was cut. Yet; there always was something about him that was ethereal, he was the pride of the Northmen, their banner, their calling horn, their legend. Now he was caged like an animal and you felt a surge of pity gnawing at your chest. 

“I know you’re there.” His voice was rugged, cracked as if he hadn’t had anything to drink yet. 

“I know, I wanted to see the great King Ragnar Lothbrok.” You stepped closer for him to see all of you.

He snorted and gestured to himself, “Everything you expected?”

“Yes and no.” He tilted his head at the answer while you tore off a piece of bread and took out some water, “I imagined a grand army storming over the hills but it’s just you. Even then you must be a great warrior for Aethelwulf to cage you like this.”

“You’ve a different way of looking at things.” He took the food and water you offered, calloused hands not taking advantage of you though he had a small inkling. 

“It’s found me in trouble more than once.” He chuckled at that, “Who was the cripple they brought with you?”

Ragnar looked at you, instead of insulting you’d been oddly kind and looked transfixed almost by his existence, “My son.”

“I thought Northmen didn’t suffer crippled babes.” You offered more drink to the man, he could tell you weren’t a servant, you were too well dressed, too clean, you hands hadn’t known a day of hard work.

“Sometimes an exception is made, lady…”

“Y/N, just Y/N no need for the lady bit.” You smiled at the warm chuckle and light in his previously dimmed eyes. 

They were blue like a clear sky, the one that wasn’t swollen at least, and he seemed kind in a way. He knew you were a lady of standing and hadn’t made move to hurt you, there was something in that simple action. You spoke plainly to each other with questions pouring from your mouth in abundance. Ragnar answered them, you reminded him of a young child thirsty for any part of the world you could get. Perhaps you were, trapped behind walls of stone and rules never knowing the freedom that he could see bursting at your every word. 

He asked questions too, about the castle, about Ecbert and Aethelwulf, even about yourself and small adventures that you were shy to admit. He laughed a bit at the antics you had created, the wild chaos that you seemed to revel in. The small freedoms. You might have made a good Viking if given the chance, instead of being wasted away by Aelle. The restrictions like harsh waves beating against a defiant rock, soon you’d be chipped away enough to know nothing but what the King demanded of you.

“I’d ask a favor, Y/N.” You nodded, not noticing between the two you’d finished the sweet bread and water, “I would like to know of my son.”

“I’ll try, I’m not sure where they’re keeping him but it can’t be that hard. Besides it’s the least I can do for you letting me talk and question you.” Ragnar debated on telling you that he enjoyed the curiosity that he’d seen in Athelstan that was reflected in yourself. 

“It would be more than enough thanks.” You nodded and jumped at the sound of armor making it’s way down the stairs, you picked up the cup and cloth to hide behind a device used to hold the prisoners still and refused to make a sound at the scent of blood wafting over you. 

The voice was sharp, Aethelwulf no doubt coming to torture the King more than he needed to. With him and the soldiers backs turned you crept back up the stairs and out, the guard you’d entrapped scowled at your passing. You took the way back into the castle and nearly running in excitement to Judith’s room. Stepping in interrupted your half-sister’s stitching and Alfred’s chess game with himself, your face was beaming and you practically glowed with excitement to answer all their questions and regale them with what you’d learn and seen. 

Alfred seemed just as transfixed as you had been learning about their gods. You’d learn of how women were equal, all fought, all worked, all loved, their goddesses were strong and free. The simple way he’d said it had called to something pure and wanting, they were free. Their women were allowed to be wild and reckless. They were allowed to fight or farm and even rule. 

“But what about the cripple?” You bit your lip looking at Judith. 

“I’m not sure, I don’t even know where they would have taken him. No one in the kitchen’s knows and the guards won’t tell me if I asked.” You began to tap your nails against your hip in thought. 

“I could.” Alfred spoke up with a mischievous grin, “I could say I saw them and wanted to know of the cripple. They’d tell me because they have to.”

A smirk broke your face while you turned to him, “You little hellion, alright, if we can find out then we both go to see him.”

The look Judith gave you blantly stated that he would but you would leave it up to her to tell him. Alfred excitedly ran out to question despite your ‘slight’ protest about him being so blunt. 

“You are a horrible influence, you know that Y/N?” Judith sighed as you grinned at her. 

“Oh come on, he needs to live just a little. Being under Aethelwulf’s thumb and being a bastard atop of that. He needs my bad influence to blame his faults on. I’d rather take the hit than him.” Your voice was quiet as she placed a hand on your shoulder, being brazen and true to the storm in your blood had given you bruises before. 

Never scars. No. They’d leave too much of a mark but bruises you could bare, bruises to keep the ones you love from never having to be harmed. It was a fair price in your eyes. The door pushed open with a smiling Alfred who bounded over, much like you imagined a puppy would, looking pleased with himself. 

“They’re not keeping him in one of the lower dungeons. He’s in a cell in the east wing instead.” You pinched his cheek at the answer.  
“I’m make a bad apple out of you yet, Alfred just you wait and see.” You smiled and went to walk out as Alfred was stopped by Judith. 

You didn’t stay for the argument to come instead walked boldly to the east wing cells. They weren’t heavily guarded in the first place atop him being incapable of walking would leave him without many. The east wing cells were connected with the oubliettes below but by a winding maze of columns and halls that you had no desire nor time to navigate. 

“Princess Y/N.” The tone was questioning as you walked to the door Ragnar’s son was obviously being kept in. 

“I’m just passing by, making friends with the guards as always.” You pulled out two silver for each of them, “I hear the inn is having a special on spiced mead.” 

“Talked to you as you were passing by to the kitchens, we did, m’lady.” They opened the door and you smirked. 

The cell was still a cell. The rank smell didn’t drift up through the stone floors, but little light shone from the window. The room was empty of any comfort, a board for a bed and on the bed a man. His eyes was a startling blue, unlike his father’s these shone brightly, filled with wariness and vibrant fury at you visage. 

“Do you speak my language?” He sat up, shifting his legs that were bound together tilting his head, perhaps debating something but not having spoken, “Is that a no? Shame I was going to tell you about your father.” 

“What about him.” His voice was thick with accent talking before scowling with the realization of the trap you’d sat upon your grin and how he’d walked into it. 

“Ah, so you do.” He snarled and even without his legs on use you couldn’t help the shiver running down your spine, not sure if it was a good or bad sensation, “He’s alright, as much as he can be. Aethelwulf is a sick man but your father’s strong.”

“What would you know of it?” The question was spat out like poison from a wound.

“I know quite a bit, King Ragnar was telling me about your gods. They’re...fascinating.” He raised an eyebrow at that, “It’s just...they give so many rights, so much freedom to do as you please. It’s strange.”

“Your God is strange.” You sighed at that not to sure that you could talk to him like his father, “Tell me of your God and I’ll show tell you our better ones.”

You grinned, it seemed a fair trade. 

~~~

Ivar had been dragged away from his father, mud caked up on his legs, roughly tossed inside the room. He wanted to scream, to kill, to fight, but then the Christians would be threatened and he’d have no idea what would happen next. He trusted his father, he needed to wait. The room was bare of anything, save for a plank to be used as a bed and a small table with a chair that looked ready and able to cave in on itself. 

He was antsy as he growled crawling over to the slab that would be his bed. He could do nothing. There was sunlight so he knew it was still day, but there was no way to ease the chaos bounding through his mind. The rampart berating over how he should be better, how he cursed his legs, how he hated this. He wasn’t sure how long he imprisoned himself in his own mind until the door creaked open. 

Ivar was prepared for guards, torture, but not for what walked in. She was his age, in a red form fitting dress, her hair was tangled loose around her, lips upturned in a grin at the sight of him. An alluring woman, he didn’t like her already. 

“Do you speak my language?” He wanted to scoff, despite the curiosity of the voice and who it was coming from, despite it he played the idiot, “Is that a no? Shame I was going to tell you about your father. 

He’d spoken before actually thinking about it, questioning and watching a satisfied look cross her face, she had laid a plain trap and like a child he stumbled into it. He disliked her with an extreme tidal wave of emotion. She told him of his father’s fairing and looked even hopeful at the mention of his Gods. She was infuriating and untrustworthy and he swore a she had a bewitchment in those e/c eyes. Like hooks to the soul to drag people to their deaths in the depths. 

They spoke of small things, simple. She was in amazement of how his people worked. How they all carried themselves, how they all were tied to each other. It was a harsh knock at the door that sent her jumping from the floor she’d settled herself on in front of him. 

“That’s my cue.” She sighed brushing off her dress, “A warning, I'm going to come back tomorrow.” 

Ivar waved her off with the same disinterest he did a slave, she still smiled, “My name’s Y/N, we’re bound to talk a lot so you should know.”

He mused over the idea of not telling her, letting her guess and come back with a new idea for who he was. She was imaginative and quick witted, anything she’d make would most likely insult him but there was amusement in that thought. 

“I might tell you my name, but not today.” Y/N looked furious for a moment then puzzled and at last determined. 

“I’ll give you one then. Be warned.” and she slipped out of the room that seemed somehow more cold than it had been. 

Ivar scowled at the door, he did not enjoy her company, he did not want to see the way she would light up at a new discovery, he did not want to be puzzled at how a woman like her hadn’t given his useless legs any regard. He did not want to see her again. A small voice from somewhere in his mind silenced the storming and thunderous rage for a moment with a simple word.

‘Liar.’


	2. Talking of Sin

You took a deep breath, settling into the warm water letting your hair billow around you. Ecbert would take many days to return and no doubt tear Aethelwulf apart for his decision. From what you gathered Ragnar was friend to the King, ally at least, and for his wounds it would be a healthy cost. The lavender scented water soothed your thoughts of Northmen with black hair and startling blue eyes. Such eyes. Feral, vibrant, challenging. Yes, challenging. What an interesting game he'd offered.

It crossed your mind to ask his father but that felt like cheating, “Where is your mind little lamb?”

Maude’s hands carefully pulled your hair out of the water to dry and plait it. You'd been acting strange since yesterday, nothing noticeable to many but to the woman who'd raised you the signs were blaring. The brush was soothing as it combed through your hair, a noncommittal hum answered her.

“It wouldn't have anything to do with the Lordship’s prisoners, now would it?” you could practically hear the disapproving look, “that'd be an extremely dangerous game for m’lady to toy with.”

“Why do you ask questions when you know the answer?” she scoffed at your tone,  “besides it's just a game.”

“Games like this tend to have fatal consequences. But you're still going to do as you please.” Maude shook her head and sighed aloud, “You're too much like your mother, she liked to play with fire too.”

“Really?” it was rare that Maude spoke of her.

“Mhm, always running about trying to push whatever limits that were set for her. “ -the tug on your hair didn't hurt as she continued the nostalgic story- “ Genoveve thought that to be a woman, a true woman, was to bring herself as high as she could to catch God's eye. For the angels to look down and know her so when she was forgiven and sent to Heaven she could speak to them as friends.”

“Do you think it worked? Sounds like she was a terrible sinner.” Maude barked out a sharp laugh at that.

“God forgives all, she would say all the time, then be on time for mass on Sundays to ask for it. But if you're asking me, yes, for her sake if nothing else. I loved your mother dearly and I'll tell you what I told her. Rules in life are set for a reason. To be broken or followed who are we to say?”

You bit your lip nervously, “It's about them. They're just so different and the way they think is bizarre.”

“They're fascinating.” she tapped your arm and offered your towel, “ Be it far from me to think you won't continue to see them.”

You slipped on the deep blue dress on with its gold belt framing your hips, and slipped on your shoes. You had to tell Ragnar about his son like promised then speed of back to his son to play this imaginary chess game.

“Y/N.” Aethelwulf’s voice grated on your nerves but you stopped nonetheless and turned to face him.

“Yes, brother?” His face deepened at the title still thinking you unworthy of the status you’d been given on birth.

“A little bird told me something disturbing, my ‘beloved’ “he snarled out the word, “sister-in-law was creeping into the dungeons. It would be a true shame to your name and the name of King Aelle.”

“In that fact, remember who you are speaking at. I am not some mewling whelp and I’ll do as I please when it comes to m-” You expected the slap, you mouth had often gotten you worse, but not the force that sent you stumbling against the long table.

“Do not forget that being Father’s wild child daughter-in-law doesn’t give you full reign and you will not disrespect me. You will not go back down there, you should be punished but be thankful that King Aelle has use for you if it were I -” You cut him off spitting the taste of iron out of your mouth.

“But I am not, and do not forget that.” You let your tongue run against the busted lower lip, it could have been worse considering Judith’s ear and Aethelwulf’s temper.

You couldn’t possibly see Ragnar now with his steadfast guards to man the door to the Northman’s cage at the risk of more than a busted lip. You turned back to the hall making your way to the east wing if you couldn’t speak to Ragnar then his nameless son would; talking to him was safer too. The same guards held position at his door so getting in wasn’t a problem, the door opened and quietly enough to not disturb the sleeping man on his plank.

He looked tense even in slumbering part of you thought that he might even have slept with a weapon. You were quiet in moving to get close enough to actually see him, the light spilling in gave him a kind of foreign look almost like a stolen secret. You supposed in part that he was stolen from his land or did he come here willing you weren’t exactly sure, you’d leaned over too close to him. Calloused fingers gripped onto your arm hard enough to where you wouldn’t be surprised if it broke causing a slight yelp to escape your mouth. His eyes were still sleep ridden and for the barest of moments you wanted to see what he did before those striking eyes cleared.

Your arm would be bruised from the grip no doubt as he released it while growling something out in his language, you rubbed your wrist lightly to try and ease the burn. Ivar’s eyes slowly took in your form. Your deep blue dress, braided hair, face pinched in pain with a busted lip. He rubbed his temples fighting off the memory of waves crashing into the boat, screams of the dead reaching from the depths while his lungs burned. He instead focused on the woman in front of him that was trying to soothe the harm he’d caused.

“Good morning to you too, princess.” Despite the pain that the smile must have caused you offered him it regardless.

“It is a morning.” He gruffed not caring or noticing the nickname, his accent thicker and voice more gravelly it was a pleasant sound after a harsh morning.

You lifted up the front of your dress skirt just slightly to sit down in front of him, “So I thought to go ask your father about your name but that didn’t go as expected besides it’s not fair to our game. So shall I guess?”

“You are very much awake.” He sat up against the wall scrubbing at his face at your attitude that reminded him much of a pup.

“The sun is up and so am I, besides we’ve a game to play.” You smiled up at his still dreary face.

“Good luck.” The smirk settled onto his face that had a way of infuriating you but at the same there was something almost playful in the look.

“I’ve met people named after plants so you’re going to have to teach me some of your words.” He raised an eyebrow at that but ceded, “What’s the word for sky?”

“Himmel.” The word rolled off his tongue with ease unlike the choppiness that cut through the air when he spoke to you.

After a few hours of playing with various words and names he was becoming more and more entertained at the frustration nearly erupting from your bones. You hadn’t stomped your foot like a child although you wanted nothing more. It was his fault. His smug face. Arrogant look in his eyes. Teasing grin when you got it wrong. It was his fault and it was maddening and enticing. It was keeping you from noticing the time flowing by until the door opened and you leapt under the plank in the only dark spot you knew, keeping safe behind the shield of his legs hanging over the side.

Ivar scowled at the walking crypt that held his mid-day feast. Roast, potatoes, carrots and breads. She also sat down a pitcher and two glasses. Maude looked over the boy with a critical eye taking in everything from how he sat, the lines of displeasure seated on his face and the tightening of his hands on the plank edge. Even more the spread of dark blue peeking into the sunlight from under the dark of the plank.

“Next time you decide to hid little lamb don’t leave your dress edge in the way.” She listened to you groan and crawl halfway out to turn onto your back.

“You could find dirt in the snow.” Ivar looked at you while you accused the woman, he had to admit to the sight below him.

Your hair had loosened but not fallen out of it’s braid as you lay upon the ground, the sun splashing on your face lighting it up to let shadows play down your collar bone and the valley between your breasts that looked close to falling out of the dress. It had been tugged down by your flinging and flopping about.

You could feel the gaze on you yet it wasn’t as calculating as it was when you were learning various words to try and put one to his name, this felt close to appraising in nature. You finally tilted your head to face him, a brilliant smile on your face there was no seduction in your eyes. No lying. It was new and terrifying to him at the same time. Despite your busted lip or maybe because of it there was a kind of otherworldly glow on your skin and twining through your hair. The sun. He blamed it on the sun. There was no other reason he looked. No other reason.

Despite being an ocean and more away he could swear that there was a part of him that was rolling its eyes and looking suspiciously like Ubbe, he was brought out of the musing by a sharp clearing of a throat. The old woman had a ferociously grim look set on her aged appearance, Y/N jumped too maybe she was looking just as intensely?

“Your food m’lady to share with your” -Maude tried to find a word besides prisoner- “Your guest.”

“Thank you, Maude.” The voice was dismissive as you glared at the woman trying to get her out of the room faster.

Maude was hesitant to leave. She’d seen it. That pass of emotions slipping from person to person. It was new and breaching but it was there, Genoveve looked at the King Aelle once like there. As if there was something like an ember in the other, something capturing the hooks of her mistress’ being to drag her down into the darkness and crush her. The prisoner being a heathen or not. There was something else though in his that wasn’t in the King’s, where King Aelle had been deceptive interest, this blue gaze was cautious interest. That made it all the more dangerous.

“I’ll be back within the hour.” It sounded more like a warning than an assurance.

You finally twisted and twined further from the plank and Ivar resisted the urge to choke at the motion jostling you back and forth with your groan of frustration. He blamed it on being in four walls with nothing but his own mind, he didn’t want to admit to the voice that had yesterday called him a liar now saying that you weren’t bad company. Christian aside, a faith that you didn’t seem truly committed to in the first place, there might be something hypnotic.

“Seems like Maude tracked me down again.” You scoffed brushing off the dirt from your dress, “ She was always good at it.”

You walked over to sit next to him offering him half the plate, he hadn’t been fed since they’d dragged him away, and the pitcher next to you with what smelled like sweet wine. He tore into the roast while you poured the wine and offered it. He took a gulp and scrunched his nose at the taste making you laugh.

“Why do you drink this? It taste rotten. No ale.” That made you snicker and shake your head.

“No ale.” His lips tugged downwards at the revelation but still continued to eat around your hands that grabbed for food; the quiet wasn’t deafening, it wasn’t uncomfortable, there was a serenity in the occasional snort of impatience.

A glance from the rim of the cup that splashed against your tongue with sweetness nearly made you gag, you couldn’t smother the laughter that escaped when you swiftly gulped down the rest of the wine. Ivar had made slight mess of himself, the gravy sticking to his fingers and where they touched on his cheeks. He looked childish, more human and less terrifying Northman.

He licked his finger still not noticing until you reached over, he jerked back with a look of suspicion, “I’m not going to poison you by trying to get gravy off your face.”

Ivar did not blush, he was a Viking, he was a warrior but regardless you leaned over and he didn’t move, the blue fabric was soft and came away dirty but you just shook it off and continued to drink. The metal resting carefully above your lower lip to not break open the wound again.

“Why did it happen?” You raised an eyebrow at the look of inquiry, seemingly lost as you sat the wine down, it stopped when a calloused finger barely brushed over your lip.

To your credit you didn’t jump instead sat slightly transfixed at how hands that were so rough were surprisingly easy with the heated flesh under their brush, “My mouth tends to get me into trouble, so sometimes I get reprimanded.”

“You’re husband?” You scoffed at the word as Ivar picked up a piece of carrot and popped into his mouth.

“My sister’s husband, Aethelwulf likes to remind me of being a bastard.” You shrugged now finding the seams more interesting than him.

“Bastard? But you’re someone at least by your hands you are, why are you hit?” You gave a half hearted shrug.

“Just because I was taken in and given position I’m still a woman, not like I can do much against it.” Ivar scowled not understanding how someone so vibrant and full of everything could hollow out in a moment to someone helpless.

“You could fight back.” He watched you wince slightly but there was appeal to the thought.

“With what? My wit, I think we both see where that leads me.” You smirked trying to brush off the grave atmosphere with a playful tone.

“What good is your God if he doesn’t protect you?” Ivar smirked at the look of confusion and thought trying to come up with something to say.

There wasn’t anything you could come up with and he enjoyed seeing the small seed of doubt settled into your mind even if you were going to brush it away it would come back, “What would your Gods do?”

“My Gods let our women fight. They’re fierce and battle with us in raids and in the wars of land. The Goddess Freyja fights as well riding into battle where her Valkyries take half of the slain to her house.” He watched wonder cross your face and there was a slight outrage in the back of his mind by how eager you were to know of a woman who could defend herself. 

“She takes half of the dead? So they go to your Heaven.” Ivar scooted back to settle comfortably against the wall as best he could. 

“What is Heaven?” After long explanations filled with pointed laughter on both of your causes brought him to a question, “What is sin? You Christians say it so much, but I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s an immoral act against God’s law, like lying, or stealing or killing.” Ivar derided at the idea, “ You’ll go to Hell if you commit a sin and are not forgiven.”

Before he could tell you how ridiculous the idea of such things sending one to Hel was the old woman -Maude he reminded himself- walked back in, “It’s time to leave your guest, it’s nearing feast and I’ve let you escape today’s duties long enough.”

You groaned in an unladylike manner to further irritate her, “Fine, but I’ll be back to talk tomorrow.” ,you leaned slightly over, “If not sooner.”

He watched you stand and brush yourself off, throwing your braid over your shoulder with Ivar slightly resisting the urge to see if it was soft but touching it. 

“What will we talk about?” He questioned as you got to the door, Maude walking ahead of you. 

“Let us talk of Sin, but until then I bid you good eve. Nobody.” He watched you walk out with the thoughts how many sins could one commit that would damn them and why would they be damned for dying well and living life at it’s fullest?

He was back in his dark room, the sun having lowered to cast only an orange glow instead of the bright one that left with you, it was colder save for the wood plank that had warmth still clinging to it. The name of Nobody was confusing as well, he’d have to question it. He could see that you were almost a slave to the God but yet you were a form of royalty at the least. Regardless he was willing to contradict you and your sins.


	3. Pride

“So this fire has blue flames, does it not?” -Maude glanced back as you sighed , you’d been dreading this exact moment- “Need I remind you that it wasn’t just you that was burned the last time you played with this fire.”

“You do not, I was there Maude, I remember what my father did to him.” you hissed back at the woman in the calmest tone you could muster. 

It had been heart wrenching, you’d slipped away in some of the nights before Aelle was actually keeping a look on you and in turn you’d met Joseph, he was a stable boy, poor, and beautiful. His hair like fire and eyes the color of the forest leaves, freckles on his nose and when he smiled he had dimples. He’d been so kind, so loving, and gentle. He didn’t deserve his fate that when Aelle discovered you’d taken him to bed, the loft in the barn had never been so devastating than on that night. You’d been dragged down by your hair with a mere shift on, by your ‘father’, he’d paraded you in front of his men speaking on if you were going to act like a whore he might sell you out like one. The threat had been empty or felt like it was. What wasn’t was the moment Joseph had been dragged down too. 

Your maiden honor had been stripped from you by a man who wasn’t your husband, worse by someone that King Aelle couldn’t coerce into marrying you for their allegiance, and to keep the kingdom from knowing “their princess is a wench” Joseph was put to death in the courtyard while kneeling on muddy ground with your screaming to hail him into his death. He didn’t cry out to you, he didn’t beg, simply let himself be thrown about and his head taken from his shoulders all on account of loving a foolish girl. You weren’t that girl anymore. The fire had burned your fingertips but consumed poor Joseph and you didn’t want that upon another person, Northman or no. You’d long learned your lesson. 

“A hard lesson but you need to remember it, you tread on thin ice Little Lamb and I only hope that you do not stand as it crumbles beneath you.” Maude always meant well but you couldn’t help but wondering if she saved all her allegories just for when you were enjoying yourself or was that her natural state of being?

“I walk on no ice, there’s nothing between he and I in that way. He just wants to learn about the Sins and who knows maybe I can convert him?” It was a thin and measly lie but she didn’t call you upon it. 

Time had fallen upon evening feast while you spoke and she picked a different dress not covered in dirt and dust and gravy to keep you meeting King Ragnar’s son. Say what she will on keeping secrets from your betters and peers but there was a curious part on how carefully constructed Maude could make lies when protecting you. How did she know what dresses to use perfectly to cover your arm’s bruise? How did she know to get dust off the back of your neck and hair before you even noticed it was there? Your mother had only been in her affair with King Aelle for a few months before leaving and the handing you up to him. Was it in any way considerable that she learned all this from a few months of passion between two people?

It didn’t matter to you once she yanked upon your hair, “Are you even listening?”, a sheepish grin crossed your features as you began to fiddle with the red dress’ sleeve. “Och, of course not. I said that Aethelwulf won’t buy you going to the kitchen the whole day. Say you spent half the day there then came here for stitching.”

Before you could even protest that there was nothing to show that you had been stitching she took a finger and with a needle pricked you, the sharpness and sudden hurt made you yelp like a child, then she handed you a plain white stitching already halfway done. Taking a moment to work on it the blood had seeped into the fabric to mimic an accident then she bandaged the finger. 

“I’ve seen desire kill one of my charges, I’ll not see it get you beaten.” Her thumb brushed tenderly over the cut on your bottom lip, “Now, time for you to sup with your kin.”

It hadn’t taken long to get to the feast hall, the table already filled with more food than the four of you could possibly eat with an irked Alfred. You sat next to him with your ever present mischievous smile that now caused your lip to throb, Alfred’s irritation melted into slight concern but you simply ruffled his hair in play, turning to the feast you clasped your hands together in prayer. It was a short thanks to God for his generosity to your family’s feast and you were all too happy about that because not a second later your stomach released a rather unladylike growl. 

Judith laughed lightly at it and as always Aethelwulf glared despite your redeeming table manners, “ How was your day, I didn’t see you after this morning.” The pathetic excuse for politeness used as interrogation of your whereabouts. 

“I went to the kitchens, Lily always has some sweets set aside for me.” Judith chuckled at you. 

“Those dresses won’t grow with you dear sister.” You gaped at the woman, she was Ecbert’s lover but Aethelwulf was still her husband and not too forgiving of her antics.

“My dear sweet sister don’t you know I pray upon my knees for not a single gain of weight.” The innuendo not lost on her as she chuckled and shook her head, “After the kitchen I went to stitching with Maude, pricked myself something painful to and messed up the fabric.”

You displayed the finger that had the slightest red tinge to assist in the smooth lie, Maude was your life saver. Super passed in relative ease, as much as was expected at least, and upon Alfred walking with you down the halls you were ready for the demands. 

“You promised I could go with you.” He sounded more hurt than angry, “You got hit for it, didn’t you? And don’t lie telling me you just ran into something.”

“Oh, Alfred you are too clever for your age.” You ruffled his hair much to his pinched face of displeasure, “I’m sorry that I can’t take you to see the Northmen, we’ll just have to wait until your grandfather gets here. He’ll let you meet them no doubt.”

The answer soothed him as he walked you to your room. The four walls were cold despite the bed and fire, the room bare but filled with ornaments and tapestries hanging on the walls. You just sighed and shrugged out of the clothes, unbecoming of you to sleep in nothing you pulled a sheer nightgown on and slid in bed, intent on dreaming away the occasional throb in your lip and even the bright blue eyes inquisitively looking at you.  The rise of sleep cascading gently down on you made you sigh in gratefulness, nothingness and quiet cradling while you willingly fell into the dark of it. 

You expected to not dream, you hadn’t since you were a child after all, not the sound of waves lapping against the grainy sand under your bare feet. The breeze  was dancing through your hair, tossing whichever way it pleased, while the sun was warm but the chill pressed you upon the ground of having goosebumps yet not needing a cloak. The air was crisp feeling your lungs and birds sang while there were creaks of boats somewhere with the laughter of children. You couldn’t see them. You could see the bank and the farm and trees rising with the cliffs. All of it familiar and not at all. 

A child ran by, a girl with blonde hair, that grabbed your hand and tugged you into a run; she was small to be so strong while she pulled this way and that. You were passing the farm and going into the trees where it was dark and soft greens played against vibrant browns.

“Where are we going?” Your voice sounded far off and seemed to echo but the girl only giggled you hadn’t noticed she’d already let go of you as your feet carried after her in curiosity.

She spoke in some language all the while twirling about with you desperately trying to keep up and almost falling off the cliff if you hadn’t looked down. It was a sharp drop into water far below but she hovered above it looking at you expectantly and waved you to come over. You shook your head and instead of running off like you’d expected her to do she simply sat on nothing looking content to wait. 

The dream didn’t shatter or fall from under your feet instead you just sat up with the odd sensation of wanting to run. Not in fear but just to run. To feel the muddy sand under your feet or taste the cool air despite it being summer. You shook loose the thoughts and lingering sensations to be met with a cool room and a purple dress. You slid it on over egear at the idea of teaching Ragnar’s son about sin. It was better than spending the day in the castle with a heinous, temperamental, self entitled-

“I hope you’re not talking about yourself.” Maude’s crooning voice sounded from the door as you struggled with your back lacings, “You’re up rather early, my lady.”

“Of course; I’m off to see Nobody.” You grinned at the name, if lying was a sin then you wouldn’t lie. 

Nobody was what Odysseus had called himself to keep the cyclops Polyphemus from calling to his comrades. Seeing as how you didn’t know his name then your new student would be called Nobody until he got exasperated enough to actually tell you his name. He was being smug because he didn’t know how impatiently patient you could be, a contradictory of course but if you could get under his skin just enough to antagonize him it might force him into telling you. 

The guards were asleep on their feet as you had two apples, one balancing in the grip of your teeth and a wine skin of water courtesy of Maude, and slid by them with ease thankful that your antics had made you quiet. You had learned your lesson by getting too close to Nobody in attempt to wake him up, instead you made loud clacking to sound that you were in the room. He didn’t sit up but one eye did open, seemingly uncaring of your being there. 

“Good morning, I’ve got you an apple and then we can get to talking about Sins.” You had to admit to the excited sensation and impatience in your chest. 

He groaned and rolled onto his side, away from you while you jutted your hip out, “Or I could take my breakfast and just let you beat your head against the wall in frustrated loneliness.”

You could feel him roll his eyes before turning back to you, “And why do you think I am lonely?”

“Because you asked me yesterday to come back and talk about Sin. You could have easily dismissed me.” A sly grin slid across your face at his scowl, “So Nobody-”

“Why Nobody? I do have a name?” Ivar partly growled and huffed. 

“Do you? If you tell me I’ll call you by it.” At that he huffed out a laugh and you smiled. 

It was a small sound but still pleasing to the ear while he shifted about to let you sit by him and give him the apple that was bitten into with a loud ‘crunch’ to echo of the walls. Odd that they didn’t seem as cold as your room’s had.

“You said sins, more than one?” You nodded thinking of which one to speak of first.

“Seven and we’ll talk about Pride today. Pride is to think of yourself high than others, and to -”

“But you are higher than others, if you are higher.” He didn’t let you finish, “How can you not have pride in what you do or how it defines you from the rest of people?”

“That’s why it’s a sin, you should be humble in getting recognition.” He raised an eyebrow, “Do you not know what humble is?”

“I’m not an idiot, woman, I know what humble is.” He snarled out at what he took as an insult, “It seems foolish not to want to take claim on what you’ve rightfully done. If you are not proud of your death or what you have done in life how do you know what your accomplishments are worth?”

“That’s the thing though, your accomplishments of good are weighed against those actions of evil like stealing from others.” You watched him mull about in his mind, blue eyes drifting off on their focus. 

“If you’ve conquered and take what is yours though by right is that considered your evil?” Ivar sounded amused at the look on your face, “After all whatever you conquer now becomes yours does it not? Taking lands from those who had it before you like your kings would do in war. Is that not evil?”

“Well, yes but”- 

“Then are you all not guilty if you have taken the land that you stand on. Even you? After all this belonged to someone else and now you claim it as home and hearth.” He grinned leaning back and taking another bite of the apple, it’s juice running down his chin. 

It was your brief thought to lean forwards and...no that’s not a good place to go, “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Though you can be forgiven by God for any sin.”

“You conquered this land, no? It had its own people, its own Gods but yours came and took it. You put up odd houses with your bells and take pride in that you are ‘spreading’ the word of your God. Is that not taking pride in a sin you committed of taking land, or accomplishing that you took what was theirs?” You eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

“I think I liked you better when I had to guess your name.” He laughed and you thought it was peculiar to be captivated by such a simple sound, higher than you thought it’d be, and though it took pleasure out of mocking you perhaps it wasn’t so bad. 

“Then shall you guess again? Or am I to turn your words upon yourself.” Ivar’s eyes were slow in taking you in, under the words you might have had to clear the lack of anything in your throat. 

Ivar was certain he’d been in here far too long despite how short of a time it might be. He was able to admit to a small degree that he was going to enjoy turning things on yourself but he hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Nor expect to enjoy the pale morning light shining into his dark hole that made all the brighter by your being here. Not the sweetness of an offered apple that he took from your hands. He could smell lavender lingering on your skin and wondered how close you’d let him if he moved a little. Ivar could easily blame it upon you being the only one to even dare to look in here.

“You are odd.” You tilted your head at that, “You see my legs but yet you don’t stare or laugh at it.”

“Well you are a North-”

“Viking. The word is Viking.” He offered, tired of the Northman title. 

“Viking. Well you are a Viking and it wouldn’t be in best interest to make you want to throttle me. Besides they’re just legs. I’ve seen worse.” He scoffed. 

“I’m serious. I’ve seen a man with no eye. And a woman without either of her legs. At least you still have yours.” You teased, “You can still feel can’t you?”

Ivar shifted now uncomfortable, “I think I liked you better when you were guessing my name.” 

He parroted back and you blushed but nodded agreeing on talking of different things and of Pride. It was to a point infuriating and worse still? Some things that he said made sense, some tales of his Gods made sense and you couldn’t help but find similarities between the two. 

“Do you have any brothers” at the question he groaned, you snickered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“They’re all a pain.” Laughter came easy around him, bruises lessened and rooms became warmer. 

“Do you play games, besides weapons I mean?” Ivar enjoyed your eagerness in your questioning. 

“Do you besides your stitching?” He cocked his head and you grinned. 

“I play chess, I’m rather good at it.” You boasted proudly, him smirking at how you’d just sinned on your own without thought. 

“Think you so? I could beat you.” Ivar took amusement and the snort that escaped you. 

“You could try. In any case I suppose I should at least bring the board here to prove myself.” You stood up rather excitedly and walked to the door. 

“Woman.” You turned before opening it, “Did you not sin of pride at how good you are at chess?”

The thought washed over you and for once in his company you felt heat on your face. You looked down thinking over something to say before the tale of your mother came to mind. 

“God forgives all.” and with that you left for the chance at beating him in chess. 

Ivar watched you leave, the dress trailing behind you as it flowed, there was something to the way your h/c locks shifted through the movements it must be soft. He found a small part of him thankful that you’d not been caught or perhaps you lied well enough that you wouldn’t be beaten again. He begrudgingly admitted to himself what he’d never do allowed, your company both soothed and infuriated him. The ringing laughter was agreeable to his silence that paraded in the room leaving him to thoughts. The wide eyes of fascination about the simplest of things, the soft sounds of interest. Those were deadly to the ears, the hum of questioning or the rolling ‘ah’ of understanding.

There was no denying the beauty that graced you but it was difficult to fully grasp at the fact that you were enraptured by his world as he was with the way you lived as yourself. Suffocating in your own home, bursting at the seams for a small filter of fresh air into your dank life and how silent you could be slipping in and out of shadows. The soft hands that had seen nothing but needlework, could they ever threaten a weapon? You walked back in with a smile and a checkerboard willing to play a game. 

The game was slow, planned, a challenge, the soft ‘tak’ of moving pieces made you grin, “I’m going to win dear Nobody.”  
“That so?” He put you in check to which you bite your lower lips, something about the movement was appealing.

“Your pride will be your downfall.” Moving out of check forced him into checkmate, “I won.” He scoffed but had a grin on his face.

“Tell me more of your home, this Kattegat.” 

“It’s a trading post with boats coming in and docking. The flourishing is made by wares and the Longhouse where the thrones sit are filled with the slaves going back and forth for anything you could ask. Not unlike your servant woman.”

“Maude, she’s my keeper or at least that’s what she keeps trying to imprint in my head.” You chuckled, “All the while she is torn of encouraging me or scolding me and I don’t understand her half the time with her speaking in riddles.”

“I know someone that she might be like, save that he’s a little more...more.” You couldn’t help the snicker nor notice Maude leaving wine in the room as you fetched it for the two of you. 

Wine was a wonder of the world, the way it made your mind hazy the ease it cause and the lack of control it helped spin. Such a drink helped to the moment where you were curiously looking over Nobody’s hands. They’d ended in your lap as you pressed against the rough skin, feeling the callouses under your fingertips. 

“They’re rough. Rougher than a soldier's I’ve touched those before, why?” You questioned turning his hands and looking at the small scars and tracing lines. 

“They’re the hands of a sinner.” He chided carefully and you chuffed at the thought, you had sin on your own hands and yet they were not as rough nor were the men’s hands in the castle, “I go to the smiths, the buckles aren’t kind either.”

The smile was soft and gentle that played over your lips. When had you gotten this close? He wasn’t sure and found it humorous that you were holding and inquiring over the hands that could strangle you with ease, these hands that would be dripping in red with your kinsmen from a raid. What would you think of them then? Would you run and hide from him? You weren’t like the shield-maidens of his home, no your hands were more like a royals. Small, smooth, dainty.

These hands could never kill, "Yours are soft, what do they do?” 

“Perhaps they sin too, more gently than yours but sin is still sin.” You looked up shyly from under your eyelashes at him- “They’re pricked by needles.” -his finger pressed gently on the wrapped pointer finger.

“They sneak around on walls no doubt, and play chess. But they couldn’t hold an axe or shield.” He now examined your hands just as intently, tracing the lines on your palm with callouses dragging against the skin. 

“No, but maybe one day a bow?” Ivar shook his head, blue eyes like the sky after a storm flickered up to you there was something there, something vibrant and fierce in them made you pull your hand back.

‘Too close to the fire and it will burn, too close.’ You cleared your throat resting your hands back on your lap. 

“You said there were seven.” You raised an eyebrow, “Sins.”

“Yes. We’ll speak of Gluttony tomorrow, won’t we?” Why had your voice gone so hoarse?

“Another game too.” The noncommittal hum from your mouth had you already trying to plan the next day and talks of Gluttony. 

Even then you were hoping there was a way around warming your hands against the fire burning hot enough to be blue in it’s hue. Burning like his eyes. Burning. 

‘Would it be so bad to be burned?’


	4. Gluttony and Greed

Maude scrubbed hard at the floors of her mistress’ room keeping count of the time. It had been almost a week now of her helping sneak the princess back and forth between her ‘Nobody’ and the rest of the castle. It was a dangerous juggling act, trying to keep her goings a secret, making sure she was seen away from the room with her sister and nephew. Keeping the secret was easy and at the same time Maude couldn’t be more terrified. Y/N had become more transfixed, her goings longer, the conversations more lengthy and detailed with their ‘lessons’. She’d seen the girl tracing the lines on her hands as if in memory of something but she didn’t come back with red spots to hide on her neck bruises anywhere else. 

Her busted lip from Prince Aethelwulf was healing nicely but Maude feared more than a busted lip was to come if they were found out. She wanted to stop the girl, wanted to lock her in her room until these Vikings were executed or released. Her beloved Y/N she’d so carefully tended too, so carefully hid her blood within Aelle’s royalty. Genoveve had trust her to put thine own issue upon the throne as much as it pained her to use the girl as a chess piece. She needed to be kept safe when Maude died, she needed to be tucked away under some king or lord even if she didn’t want to be. Maude needed her to be safe.  
The floors were clean, her mistress’ bedding straightened, the room settled into it’s organized state no doubt to be ruined by the young woman’s natural state of chaos. She was too much like her mother. 

‘I wasn’t made to be quite Maude, I was made to push limits. To be reckless, how else will the angels know me?’ Maude shook her head with a fondness.

Her mistress had gone to town under the guise of a kitchen maid with Lily and wouldn’t be back till later, it would give her time to deal with the Northman best she knew how. The tub wasn’t the best but would work as she ordered two men to carry it and three maids to take warm water with her into the prisoner’s room.  
Ivar was none too pleased when the door opened to show men and women piling in carrying a tub. Y/N had promised to speak of Gluttony but as the days had dragged on she seemed to have interest in teaching him or a more realistic conclusion was she was lonely. 

Y/N and him spoke so often of small thing. His home, how he learned to play chess, his brothers with their annoying way of showing affection. Ubbe with his elder brother antics between teaching Ivar, encouraging him -treating him like a brother- and pranking his younger siblings. Hvisterk and the playfulness even in sparring with Ivar. Sigurd...there were moments, rare and far between that they tolerated each other. 

Y/N had an immense dislike for his elder brother stating that it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to meet him as she’d surely give him a piece of her mind on how he treated her...friend? He wasn’t sure what they were. They were...Gods forbid comfortable with each other. He thought the soft touch of hands would easily be blamed on the wine she’d drank. No. The next day she sat closer, she questioned the roughness of his hands again and made no issue to cradle them in her lap once more. She was almost remorseful at how he admitted that they ached from time to time.

Ivar found himself enjoying the way the pressure in them eased when the wayward princes had pressed on them, almost -oh for Odin’s sake- almost longing and it made him furious. It made him hate her. It made him want to shove her away. He wanted to yell, make her leave. But. There was the way her e/c eyes had flakes in them while she sat close, looking at him. No pity, no lurking sneer or deception in those eyes that were genuinely curious of his world and his life. The way her voice changed soft tones to let him know without words how she felt. Her smile hid a type of sunshine in it that seemed to caress his skin.

She didn’t question his legs. She didn’t care. And Ivar hated her for it. He craved her for it. He needed her for it. How dare she come into his world, this small little pawn in his chess game and change all the rules when he was so sure that they were fixed in place? How dare she steal parts of him? How dare her voice be so pleasing when he knew music from a grand feast or the horns of war should sound better? Or her laughter fill his chest with a dangerous and terrifying sensation. Damn her. Damn her and her God and anything else to do with her but Gods save her and anywhere she walked so that he could see and hear her again.

“Well it’s nice to know that my mistress isn’t the only one with selective hearing.” The old crone’s voice drew him from the thoughts but she scoffed when he sneered like he was a pup bearing his milk teeth. 

Maude cocked her hip out and frowned as he spouted in his language a curse or something of the same sort she didn’t need to be fluent in it to know that he was displeased with her appearance. 

“I’ll have you take a bath before she arrives, as much as I have a distaste for her company you are beginning to smell...ripe and I’ll not have her around it.” The two men left and the women filled the bucket, “In you go now, hop to it.”

He growled and her eyes narrowed at the ‘boy’ “Either you’ll get into the tub or God’s my witness I will toss you over me shoulder like a babe.”  
Ivar laughed at that, actually laughed even though bitterly, there was no way that she could actually lift him. Or so he thought. The old wench marched over and grabbing his legs by the belts she lifted him up and proceeded to toss her over a bony shoulder much like a sack of potatoes. He would forever deny the undignified yelp that came from his mouth. The woman was shockingly adept at the motion when dumping him on a stool level with the lip of the tub.

“Now I trust you know how to bathe yourself.” She began to unbuckle the bindings on his leg, he was swift in slapping her hand away and sneering. 

“What are you doing, you old goat.” The woman huffed. 

“You’ll be needing help in and out of it now won’t you? I’m no fool, I’ve seen legs like yours before I have.” He scoffed at the suggestion, “My second husband had ‘em. Ached something awful needed a hot bath all the time ready. William his name was.”

“Are you going to talk my ear off?” The lines on Maude’s scowl were only enhanced by her natural age marks. 

He let his fingers skim the water in appreciation, he was right and the water would ease the insistent ache that left him in a constant state of exhaustion. After a fight of wills and the wavering idea that maybe the woman was some type of warrior descendant with her ferocity he ceded and never had he been more distressed and uncomfo- that wasn’t true but it was a close high. The servants that bid to him in Kattegat he’d known them from childhood here was a different and wrong. 

“I don’t mind throwing you in either.” After the old woman’s last promise he didn’t want to tempt her over. 

It was awkward and bizarre but after helping him in with some of the warm water splashing over the side she left. He sank down to just above his nose and let it wash over him. Few things eased his pain but floating in the tub of hot water was making a top of his list. When it had grown cold he was halfway out pulling himself up when a loud yelp made him freeze.

“Mi’lady don’t!” The shout was too late and in a swift blur Y/N turned around her back to the tub. 

“I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t..I uh...I’ll l-leave.” He refused to say he’d blushed whatsoever. 

“Never seen a man’s chest before, woman.” You balked at the question and the chuckle that bloomed a heat you refused to think of. 

“I’ll have you known, I have thank you very much.” You hissed out listening to the splash of water falling out of the tub and you bit your lip. 

It was just a moment but your eyes had taken in the savage allure that was Viking and it was pressed another log onto the fire that had been stroked on his arrival. Water had dripped down his chest, the beads glinted just so to reflect the light, it rolled over broad shoulders and across a firm abdomen the slightest ‘v’ shape at his hips. You thought Gluttony was on today’s lesson and now you had to figure out how to look at him without biting your lip and playing over the thought of tracing the rippling muscle with your tongue. Or even the thought of your legs on those broad shoulders with calloused hands holding down your hips while chapped lips kissed the inside of you th-

‘Oh God save me I’m going to Hell. Okay need to think of something else...Maude naked, Athelwulf standing in front of me, Father. God forgives all, just remember God forgives all.’ 

“You can turn around now.” If you hadn’t known better there was a type of teasing tone in his voice, and you should have known better because upon turning you bit the inside of your mouth. 

His corded arms were in the sleeves of his shirt and thankfully his pants were tied together though it didn’t stop your eyes from wandering nor the smug and satisfied look on his face. 

“What?” The word came out more breathy than you’d wanted it to and he was all to proud at the noise. 

“I thought you’d seen a man’s chest before.” The smirk infuriated and burned while you cleared your throat.

‘Blue flames, fire. He’ll get killed. You will kill him or worse.’ Though you couldn’t deny that today might turn to Greed instead of Gluttony because you were all the more greedy at sight of him. 

“I have it’s just been...a while.” Nobody raised an eyebrow obviously not believing that a princess could have done anything sinful in her life that included leering at a man’s naked chest.

“Are you Christians punished more if you commit the same sin but at greater degrees? Does it add years or are you damned either way after all you’re just looking.” How had you walked over to the bench more importantly when had he taken his arms out of his sleeves to lean back and look up at your continuously startled expression. 

“I’m not sure.” You sat eye level with him blue eyes startling hypnotic with you not caring that the dress was getting dirty, you weren’t dressed as a princess just a normal girl and he admitted that it looked nice on you. 

The dress was plain, you wore no jewels, your hair was pulled by a tan bandana to keep it out of your face, the shoes were just brown no embellishments on them. There was nothing but the woman underneath with blushing cheeks and darting eyes. It was odd to have you see him and not be repulsed. Ivar thought you’d flinch away instead you looked at him like he was something to be desired, like you wanted to reach out and touch, feel him. Would it be so bad to feel smooth hands on his skin? You weren’t Margarethe, there was something of you that stirred and churned him. Something addictive and he found himself wanting. 

“And here I thought all Christians were supposed to know their sins.” You huffed out a sound that was supposed to be a laugh. 

“Only the ones we committed.” He tilted his head looking at the hair that escaped some of the bandana, coarse fingers brushing against the soft skin of your cheek.

“And which have you committed blóm?” Your throat was dry as calloused fingers trailed down to your neck, his thumb tracing against the dip of your collar bone, when had he gotten so close?

“I.” His nose brushed gently against yours, eyes stilling into your soul hooking to it and dragging it into excastical sin. 

The kiss was sloppy and clacking teeth and deliciously perfect. You tasted of sweets and apples and he tasted of wine that he’d grown to tolerate. His hand squeezed your jaw gently, insistent surprisingly undemanding as if he were scared you’d pull away. All thoughts vanished as the kiss became a hot slanting of tongues and gentle moans as you tugged on still wet hair. You tore away from him putting a hand on your mouth, what did you do? God what had you done? You had a look of panic, biting your lower lip and trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out, looking away from it, you were scared. 

Scared of what would happen to him, scared of the consequence, terrified of the flames that burned into a bonfire and it burned and it was good. The kiss had seared across your tongue, archaic dance of passions. Nothing Joseph had ever done came close to this. His hands settled on your shoulders causing your attention to turn to face him, a dangerous decision admittedly. 

“I’m not.” His voice was gravely and his hands warm, it wouldn’t be hard for him to drag you back against him and god you wanted him to. 

“You’re a sin and God will throw me to hell for you.” You wanted to move, to get away or closer you weren’t sure. 

“Why?”

“Because I want more.” He snatched you against him, this kiss was easier, smoother. 

The kiss was hungry, devouring as if you were the only thing able to give him breath and that he was drowning. You opened your mouth for him to drink in the nearly obscene moan slipping from your lips, only pulling away when you both became dizzy from lack of air but not far. His breath was warm against your lips and he was drunk on the taste of you.

“More.” It was a harsh whimper from the back of your throat that beckoned him.

”Greedy.” The grip on your dress top became almost painful as you followed his tug, the dress skirt raising up and he couldn’t stop the calloused hand that settled you onto his lap with zeal. 

Your fingers tugged on his hair drawing him to you with a single hand further kissing fiercely biting on your lip and dragging you with him. His skin warm under your finger, the other hand’s nails having dug into his skin. There would be marks before this was done no doubt. It wouldn't matter because he wanted you. Ivar wanted. The taste of you was addicting and he couldn’t help but lose himself in it. This wasn’t anything like Margarethe further by the warm surge as you slowly rolled your hips down against him. Ivar didn’t feel panic or fear just fire and power and -

“I’d moan your name if you gave it to me.” Your whine was quivering as he guided your hips into another shift bearing down on the growing bulge there.

“Ivar.” His name tasted like dark honey on your lips while he surged forwards teeth dragging in an onslaught of the throat offered to him as your nails dragged down his chest.

He nearly threw you onto the ground at the deliciously carnal keen of his name falling from your lips and took you against the stone floor while his fingers pulled at the lacing on the front of your dress. He pulled down the sleeve of the dress his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder he would have pulled more save for the loud ‘bang’ of the door slamming open. You leapt up or attempted to only succeeding on falling backwards and dragging Ivar down with you. His hand took most of the impact as he stopped your head from bouncing against the stone ground. It didn’t stop your hips from slotting against each other and you strained to swallow the moan from the delirious inducing slid of clothed skin.  
Looking up you wondered if Aethelwulf’s face could grow anymore red while you startled at the chuckle and press of chapped lips just below your collarbone Ivar’s weight kept you from shoving him off. Looking down the Viking was now glaring up at your brother-in-law he snarled out something in Norse and to anyone else the shudder of arousal if given benefit of the doubt could be seen as fear. Aethelwulf didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt. Guards came in and lifted him off of you and thanking God for quick reflexes to be able to tighten the lacing of your dress enough that he wouldn’t catch you with bite marks on your shoulder.

“Gentlemen take the Princess” He hissed the word, “To her rooms to have her punishment discussed later.”

The guards went to grab you however the warning glare that was enough to scathe their flesh as you got up on your own and brushed off the dress. Maude was standing outside wringing her spindly hands with distress deep seated in her face that turned relieved for a single moment as you walked to her. She took in the disheveled look, the smallest of marks on your neck to the tangles that was your hair. The slight dirt on your skin. 

“What did you do?” She hissed taking your hand. 

“Touched fire.” You had explained it so calmly but it sent Maude into a state of terror. 

You didn’t know what happened to Nobo- Ivar- you reminded yourself but you knew Aethelwulf wasn’t idiotic enough to harm the son of Ragnar because of Ecbert, you stayed in your room taking a book from the shelf trying to find something to distract you from the ache in the pit of your stomach. It’d been too long since someone had kissed you much more like he had, with such power or fervor. 

You couldn’t hear Ivar taunting him in Norse over how beautiful you looked under him, the tantalizing picture of your hair fanned out and the delicious sounds pouring from your mouth that he’d caused. Aethelwulf didn’t strike him while the Prince of Kattegat spat out taunts and snarls. A part of Ivar wondered what the pompous Christian man would do to you, he’d seen your busted lip but it wouldn’t go any further than that would it?

Maude was ordered outside upon Aethelwulf’s arrival to your door, “I’m Princess Y/N’s keeper not your servant.”

She was a stubborn old woman in light of the two fully armed guards, it was one that had to drag her away with a painful grip as the Prince stepped inside, “You’re a glutton for punishment aren’t you?”

You stood straight, defying and proud, “You shouldn’t be one to speak, I’ve heard all about your life too.”

“You are a woman!” He roared and you were proud in the fact that you didn’t flinch, “You are to stand and be silent unless spoken too! You are to be versed in the arts of home and hearth! You should bow your head before God al-”

“I am not yours to punish Aethelwulf! You c-” The slap wasn’t expected as the gauntlet snapped your head to the side, you could taste the bit of blood and the cheek would bruise yet in stubbornness you scoffed. 

Fury roiled through him but you refused to let him see the pain, let him know that it hurt, “You were willing to let him lay his heathen paws-”

“That heathen is more a m-” Another slap and you slumped against post of your bed grabbing to the wood tears threatening to fall.

“You’ve had entirely too much ‘freedom’ and abused it in my father’s absence by thinking you could go and do obviously you’ve been tainted by sin. You will not leave anywhere without an escort and that maid of yours will not count.” He snarled out, “Do you understand?”

“God forgives all.” You spat out tasting the metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, he growled and slammed the door behind Maude who rushed past looking at the deep bruise on the same cheek already coming to bare. 

There would be a moment when he wasn’t looming, and when he was you would go back and revel in as much sin as you wished. Having no protector was risky but not seeing Ivar, not being consumed in the burning wave would be far worse than never have doing so at all. After all you were already sinning? What was a few more to ask forgiveness for regardless as to how far you willingly leapt into depravity?

“Y/N.” Your name came out as a sigh with Maude tilting your head, worry flashing through her eyes but you smiled, “My Little Lamb.”

“You think me wicked too?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I think you mad and reckless. What did you do?” She didn’t need to guess at the blush and bite to your sore lower lip, “Of course you kissed him back, what was I thinking that somehow he overpowered you?”

“He did.” You didn’t stop the grin despite the pain and the ache. 

Aethelwulf was right, you were a glutton for pain at the cost of your greed for him. For Ivar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so not the best chapter admittedly but I'm working up to something so this is the best bridge between a and c that I can get. Also Ivar calls you Flower. This thing looked so much longer on GDocs...


	5. Lust

You were at the edge of the cliff again, the sea breeze tousling your hair, tangling it however it liked. The girl was standing only a few feet from you still off the cliff but not so far away. She spoke but you couldn’t make it out. 

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying and I won’t go out there.” It would have sounded assertive if you weren’t so confused and maybe even scared. 

“That’s because you are not listening.” The blonde haired girl rolled her blue eyes and you could swear she stomped her foot for a moment. 

“I am listening.” You snapped before realizing that she suddenly could understand you or you here or whatever was happening, “This is my dream I should be able to unders- oh.”

She smiled and took a step back, “If it’s your dream then why don’t you come out with me?”

Suspicion rose like a wave in your blood, you’d fallen in dreams before it lead in sweat a scream and panic, “What’s your name?”

She smiled and offered her hands, “I’ll tell you if we make it to the clouds.” Her hand was small and warm in your own, the tug was insistent but comforting all the same. 

‘Don’t look down.’ It was a mantra in the back of your head as you took a hesitant step. It was air, your logical mind argued, you’re going to fall straight through and to your death congratulations. Instead you found that oddly the air seemed to solidify under your feet, the girl smiled at the look on your face. You still gripped her hand but dared looking down, the ocean roiled below you, slapping against the cliffs sounding eerily like thunder, you dared to let your hand drop below your feet and found nothing. The chuckle escaping your lips was a mix of wonder and panic at it, your feet found solidness and your feet only, the little giggle of the child made you blush.

“To the clouds?” She nodded and wrapped her arms around your waist while you walked, your hands carded through her hair. 

The scent of ocean and the feel of silky hair followed you out of the dream as you sat up, the soreness of your cheek still shot through your face with the bruise a deep purple and a bit of yellow in an attempt to heal, a cut from the metal of the gauntlet was throbbing upon your rise. The low firelight played of the ugly feature that had been an addition to your face. It was still night outside, late but you couldn’t stop fidgeting and tossing and turning. 

You hadn’t been able to slip away to see Ivar and it was infuriating as the kiss seared through your blood still regardless of the days that had passed. The keening rise in your lips made you feel like they were swollen and Maude frowned in an almost fond way. Aethelwulf had kept his threat of shadowing you every step you took no matter where you were his guards were bluntly following you or attempting to do so stealthily and failing all the same. Shadowing? Stalking more the like.

There was a rolling thunder somewhere far, a storm threatening to crest of the fields and spill into the earth below, it hadn’t rained in days and you desperately wanted it to do so even if just to lull you back to sleep. Sleep that seemed stubbornly determined to evade you despite your tired eyes, the restlessness in you was driving to a point of near insanity. Standing on the stone you hissed at the chill and pulled over an overcoat atop the thin chemise you bedded in, everyone had to sleep even the guard. 

The door ever faithful was silent as you slid it open gently to peer out into the flame light hall. They were asleep, leaned against the wall only the two of them, with light snores filling the air. You bit your lip, it was risky. Very risky but it’d be worth it to see him. You wanted to snort at how Gluttonous and Greedy you were acting, somehow the man was making you sin with the utmost ease and what should have frustrated you made something warm bloom in your chest. You didn’t name it. You couldn’t. You refused to. 

You couldn’t risk putting on your shoes instead would have to rely on your feet to slip by as you crept out of the door. Closing it you held your breath out of fear that somehow, someway they’d wake and drag you back in or worse tell your captor that would result in more bruises. Yet they didn’t move and you dared to let out a single breath before walking the familiar halls, Ivar’s room would have guards. And they did but with a smirk you picked up one of the loose bits of stone and threw it down the hall, the clattering was loud and concerning enough to get them to leave. It was a small chance but you were able to slink into the prison before they returned. 

Ivar was sitting up and leaning against the wall, head tilted to look at you with a grin, “You take a long time, no?”- You huffed, of course he’d be waiting or maybe he woke up from the noise and assumed either way you were pleased to see him.

“I’m a woman, it’s my prerogative.” You teased lightly, coming to sit beside him without prompting. 

His grin fell into something furious, sharp, reckless and for a moment terrifying. The Viking tugged you almost into his lap and the look didn’t change despite the calloused hands gently tilting your chin into what he could see in the moonlight. 

“I’ll kill him.” The promise seethed into the air and you found yourself lightly pulling his hand, threading your fingers together.

“It’ll heal, they’re just bruises.” The attempt to ease his anger only seemed to spur it more. 

“They’re bruises on you. They matter. "His hold tightened and you just shrugged, “I’m serious blóm. No one should dare raise hand to you, not to this lovely skin, not against you.”

Ivar looked ready to kill eager for it, desiring it and if he could you had no doubt that he would and all at your behest. All for you. Because this odd blooming in your chest that made you want to shrink away and hide from everyone may not just be lodged in you only. This was different. You felt safe. These hands could strangle you, choke the life out of you and with ease you guessed but he didn’t. Instead these hands stroked, held, brushed hair from you to see your face more. Looking at you and with eyes like those you felt stripped bare of everything. You felt vulnerable and it was frightening and addicting all at once.

He could see you playing something over in your mind, your teeth lightly biting down on your lip. He was surprised at you not jerking away at the promise to kill your kin. The Gods wonder Ivar swore you leaned further into the hands that cradled you, comforted by the thought. He’d peel the man’s flesh from his bone like an onion strip by strip for doing this to you. Women were odd in this place. They didn’t fight back, the just took whatever treatment fell upon them. They were like slaves and that made nothing less that burning fury roil through his very being. 

You least of all were made to be slave, you were too wild, too vibrant, too much and all too little. You weren’t meant to be here. He wanted to steal you away, wanted to take you with him back to Kattegat. Ivar could teach you there. You wouldn’t have to become a shieldmaiden but you could save yourself. You could be more. And here they were smothering you under a pillow. They dared to hit you. Strike at what was his...his? You could be, he wanted you to be and it wouldn’t be denied given how you were holding to him. This was something and he was torn between pulling away and making straddle his lap and devour you. Gods he could still taste the apple on your lips even these days after you’d been beyond reach. 

“When I leave you’ll come with me.” You looked up at the determination written into his face, the ferocity there, the desire to protect and it only made you shiver from want. 

“To Kattegat? What use would I possibly be there?” It was a trick question and you both knew it, “You know I cannot fight.”

“You won’t have to be a shieldmaiden. I could teach you how to keep yourself safe, no one would strike you, they wouldn’t dare. I’d keep you safe.” You smiled at it and brushed your nose against his. 

“What about your brothers? What would they think of you taking home a woman like me?” He growled and pulled you atop his lap, you followed easily with his hands resting on your waist. 

“To Hel with what they think, you’d be mine.” The word made you shudder and press closer to him, “You’d like that? Me stealing you away? Taking you from this place?”

You didn’t feel the drag of your overcoat nor the light ‘thump’ it made on the ground. The chemise was almost sheer causing a shiver of cold to ride down your spine, you had the sudden urge to cross your arms over your chest. Despite being thin it rested low on your chest almost resting on the rise of your breast, it had no sleeves and when standing came to your mid-calf. Scandalous in and of itself made worse with you astride his lap the shift had risen to your lower thigh leaving the moon to play against your skin. 

“I want that.” Your voice was soft, admitting to the desire like a prayer and laced with a soft keen.

The scorching heat of his mouth slanted against yours pulling a momentarily shocked sound that turned into a sigh. He grinned pulling you down into the kiss, a savage, deep, devouring clash of lips and teeth that left you both breathless. His tongue having slipped into your welcoming mouth now chased the taste of blueberries you’d eaten reveling in the whine drawn from the back of your throat. There was only so much you were willing to submit to and it was surprising to learn that the kiss became a battle of will as you urged him to give into you. 

You wanted to know him. You wanted to taste. He smirked at your frustrated growl. You nipped at his lip only for him to draw away, you realized Ivar was making you follow him, his lead, his pace and it made a type of impatience rise in you. Your fingers tangled in his hair tugging to pull him away so you could stare and you didn't think you'd ever find a more enticing picture in your life.

Ivar was smirking, smug and satisfied despite his panting, his eyes now dilated ringing with a thin circle of blue, he drew your attention back to his mouth as his tongue ran almost teasingly over his lower lip. He watched almost amused at you reminding him of a kitten that'd been splashed with water. The scowl that was supposed to incite fear was anything but with your kiss bruised lips and flushed cheeks, the rise and fall of your chest made the moon's gleam dance across your body.

"You're going to have to work for dominance." Ivar tugged you forwards mouth at your collarbone, "I'm not soft like your men, Y/N."

It was a warning, a reminder wrapped in a low grating growl with a heavy accent, "Thank your Gods for that."

He chuckled against the skin of your chest, placing kisses and small nips soothed with after a moment with his tongue. You drew him back to your mouth with an idea formed from the few moments you had away from his delirium inducing touch. The kiss though burning was playful as he drew the flimsy fabric up to your mid thigh letting you feel the callouses dragging against the tender skin that made you jump lightly. He grinned at the jolt feeling victory leap up into him. Short lived.

The ardent roll of your hips down against his made him choke for just a moment but a moment was all that was needed. It felt empowering to use the leverage of being above him, dragging your hardly clothed body shamelessly against his. Ivar had almost prided himself on being clever, smart retorts, quick reflexes but the sensual keel of your movements rendered him void of common thought. Animalistic devoir took it’s place as he forgot to fight back instead let you have your way. Ivar didn’t -couldn’t- stop the almost encouraging growl as you finally won right to explore his mouth. He tasted like something warm, cinnamon, and rich -the flavor a small aphrodisiac of itself- you would not leaving a sharp rise of canine nor taste of what you could only describe as Ivar unknown to you. You needed this, longed for it. The Viking let you yank his shirt over his head to feel nearly burning skin underneath your fingertips. 

You didn’t notice nor care as calloused hands raised your dress, pushing it up to your hips yet you refused to be distracted. Ivar choked and pulled away to stare at you with something like wonder. No, you weren’t planning on bedding the Viking it’s just that small clothes were restricting. 

“What? Not my fault that I can’t drive the thought of you between my th-” He nearly whined at the lack of any smalls and the devilish words leaving a curse in his language to pass chapped lips.

Ivar’s hands pushed the fabric further up brushing against your ribs causing a breathless pant to mix with a soft giggle. He grinned leaning forwards, lips slanting hotly over your own drinking in the desperate whine that escaped your needy form. He felt you shiver as he lead her in a carnal dance of tongues. A surprised rasp broke your touches, his hands kneading your breasts under the bunching of white fabric with your back arching, his hips bucked up against yours tearing a mewl from your mouth at the hardness there.

His hands were slow to leave the warmth of your chest and inch down with his lips trailing kisses against your jaw carefully as you tilted it back submissive and want. A cry tore from your lips, calloused fingertips dragged across your folds the sensation leaving you stark and pleading hearing him growl at how you were practically dripping. He groaned enraptured by the keening noises being torn from what seemed your very soul. The knot that had begun to form in your lower belly tightened at the caress. 

“Gods Y/N, you’re so wet. All for me. Only me.” Each word was companioned by a brush of his fingers.

“Yes, yes, you. Only you.” You were desperately trying to keep your voice down, you couldn’t be caught and it somehow raised every breath on your skin, every brush of fingers, every teasing word tenfold. 

He watched you bite down on the hand you’d thought to use to cover your mouth- if not you would scream- as he thrust two fingers into your quivering body, he felt your nails dig into his shoulder blade, body arching and eyes falling closed at the sensation. It took determination to not fall from his plan at teasing you and instead throw you against the floor, the plank, he didn’t care to tear you apart at the sight. His pace was slow, torturing almost in the gentle movements. 

While you were keening in sheer muffled frustration as each time you made to move your hips he forced them still with an iron grip only letting you slightly rock as he stretched her. You were beautiful like this. You looked like a goddess and he desired nothing more in that moment than to see you undone at his behest. Fingers were delving deep into you body -knuckles brushing against a bundle of nerves that caused you thighs to quiver- he had let his grip up silently giving permission to bare down and follow the motion of his fingers.

“That’s it. Good girl.” The purr in his voice washed over you, it was an exciting and appealing way to learn that yes you did enjoy that particular praising, him getting to see your eyes roll back.

He felt your nails run down his chest as stars exploded behind eyes you didn’t remember closing and the hoarse sound of his name on your lips. Made him shake in anticipation but for the moment he watched. You were panting as the orgasm tore through you while he helped you ride out the waves of ecstasy, fingers coaxing out the rapture in firm movements. Ivar decided in that moment there was nothing better than the sight of you hazily slipping through bliss. You had become practically boneless in his hold, the only thing holding you up was the secure grip of his hands. You felt the slick coat your thighs and no doubt his pants as he pulled away. His fingers shined in the night covered with your release and you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. 

Not when Ivar watched you open your mouth to lick the heady taste of yourself from his fingers with the look crossing his face made your toes curl. His groan was delicious while you tugged the useless chemise off.  There had once been the questioning of his impotence and although he wasn’t thinking of the fact at the moment and would no doubt feel a kind of pride at it later, he was straining painfully hard against the fastening of his pants. The plank wasn’t large enough for the two of you and he could see that slowly flash through your mind but it didn’t seem to matter as you eased away trying desperately to keep yourself from buckling under your own weight. He could honestly say you were breathtaking as you sank to the ground uncaring of the harsh ground against your back that chilled making you arch up. You looked like an offering to the Gods and he didn’t hide the growl at your longing hands reaching for him. 

There was a feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that you’d known once and could still name from restless night without satisfaction. The feeling of insistent throbbing between your legs, you felt so empty, hollow and craving. The Viking caved nearly collapsing into your open arms. He delighted at your purr from under his warm weight feeling you arch your back with desire flooding through your system, electricity pulsing under both of yours skin. The pressure of his weight eased off  just a moment as you heard the sound of fabric unlacing, when he came back you could feel the heavy, hot tip of his cock tight against your inviting body. 

He watched you clench in anticipation, his mouth fell to your breast nipping and sucking as your fingers raked across his back drawing red lines where they clawed. Your nipples were hard, breast heavy and swollen with need craving the ease that Ivar brought with nips and velvety tongue to listen to each desperate mewl quietly escaping the determination of you to be quiet. Ivar pressed at your entrance, teasing and coyly never pressing into the scorching heat you offered. 

“Say my name.” The words were ragged in your ear, you growled at the demand and wrapped your legs around his hips in attempt to force him closer, the grip that came to your hip was harsh and sudden, “No, no, pet.” His voice was chiding, “My name and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me hard enough that I won’t be able to walk but you’re being a tea-” Your voice turned into a gasp of pleasure as the tip of his cock slipped into your tight heat, he watched your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

“My name.” You whimpered at the demand, “My name, pet, and I’ll give you the world.” His heated promised washed over your body setting more fire to the raging heat of yearning and desire. 

“Ivar.” The name slipped out of your mouth like a prayer to some lost god, to something archaic and vibrant in your blood that he’d awakened. 

“Hold onto me, sweetheart.” Your arms draped over his shoulders, nails already digging in as the warning he’d spoke earlier rang in his mind. 

‘I’m not soft like your men.’

Your breath was stolen at a powerful snap of his hips and Ivar was sheathed inside you to his hilt, the moan pouring out of his mouth smothered into the crook of your neck where he bit down on the skin. You were so wet, so warm and tight and inviting and he didn’t fight the urge slam into you. Let there be raw red marks where your skin banged into the unforgiving stone, let their be bruises where he gripped your hips and thighs, let there be bite marks red and sore tomorrow.

You could spend days like this, wrapped around Ivar with his teeth sunk into your neck hard enough to hurt and it had never felt so good to nearly bleed from the sharpness of them. You felt impossibly full and aching with the rightness of him cradled between your thighs against you, setting the pace forcing bolts of pleasure through your body.

“I’m not some dandelion Ivar damnit.” He drew out of you, the hot, hard length of him dragging through your aching sex before he slammed back into you, sending your eyes rolling with the force of. 

To keep the sob of pleasure silent he placed a hand over your mouth, as he moved to draw himself nearly all the way out before baring down back into your soaking cunt. Faster and faster and each thrust harsher than the last making you bounce just slightly the rocks and dirt tearing into your back only caused you to moan into his ear. His voice was harsh and broken as his language was spoken against your skin. Praises or demands or oh for the love of his gods you didn’t care. A low whine escaped your lips as heat bloomed deep in your belly. You were so crazed with desire, with want, and need, and being so full of him, that you couldn’t tell him you were dangerously close. 

Ivar didn’t need you to tell him. You cunt gripped his cock, drawing him back in with every scorching drag, fluttering wildly. You tensed each time he lunged back into the tight heat of your body and you were shaking. Your legs trembling around his hips, nails breaking the skin of his shoulders making him bleed made him shudder. He wanted to push you over, he wanted to see you fall apart under him, he needed to see it. 

“Are you going to be my good girl?” You nodded under his hand vigorously, “Don’t scream.” Your eyes widened when he took his hand away and you were going to protest before his thumb fell on your clit, “Don’t scream Y/N.”

Your body pulsed with the demand, pulsed with the quick and harsh roll of his thumb on your clit and the slam of his hips into your so harsh your bones would rattle with the force of it. If you’d been standing on the ledge of euphoria Ivar had shoved you violently into the crashing wave of abruptly ravenous pleasure. It was a struggle not to scream while clenching your teeth together so only the softest of whines fell into the air and tears streamed down your cheeks with the exertion of it.

Ivar knew he couldn’t roar out his pleasure despite the orgasm wracking through his form almost chaotically from the base of his spine through his whole body as he felt himself spill into you. To keep himself from giving the both of you away he bit into your shoulder hard enough to break skin, his moan gentle at the taste of iron filling his mouth. You didn’t push him off as he gently licked at the wound and nuzzled at each splash of skin he’d viciously attacked, you reminded him of a canvas you body had been bare and now he painted it. 

When rolled to the side you whined faintly at the loss of him inside you, there was something comforting at the sensation. He turned to look at you and chuckled, you were the vision of wildness. Your hair tangled and strewn about on the floor, naked under the moonlight with his marks on your skin that glistened with sweat, his seed spilling slightly from between your legs and an odd glow that he didn’t blame on anything else except for the affection you’d somehow stolen from his soul. 

“I might have to sneak into my brother’s prison rooms more often.” He scowled at the jest. 

“No you won’t.” You ducked your head to hide the grin, enjoying the possessiveness in his voice, “You’ll come to me and only me.”

“That right, why would I possibly do that?” Ivar snatched you against him despite your sudden yelp, the hand at your throat only made arousal throb achingly through your body as it didn’t tighten.

“Because you’re mine.” The was a tenderness in his eyes that betrayed the harshness of his voice, the look of fear made your heart break. 

“Yes, yours only.” He was satisfied with the answer and drew you down into a surprisingly coaxing kiss filled with fondness that made affection bloom in your chest, he smiled pulling away and brushed his nose against yours. 

“Just so you know it’s all your fault I’m going to burn in perdition.” A boyish chuckle escaped his lips. 

“Is that so?” You nodded in falsely solemn, “Because you sinned, no?”

“What we just did”- he interrupted you. 

“Fucking?”, You shook your head and buried your face in his neck, “For someone so wild I didn’t think a word would make you hide.”

He chuckled as you settled back into him, your leg thrown over his waist and body pressed up against his side, arm thrown across his chest and face on his still heaving chest, “Tell me more on your sin, blóm?”

“Lust. To be damned for my desire for you.” You groaned almost pathetically into his chest and he shook his head, “God will send me to Hell, there is no way in Heaven or this green world that I can be forgiven for this.”

His fingers raised your chin to look up at him, “If your God will not protect you, then mine will.”

“That so?” Ivar ‘hmm’ed thinking for a moment before shifting under you before something glinted in front of you, a hammer wrought of iron dangled in front of your face on a thick strap of leather. 

“So that you know my Gods are more than willing to protect you than one who sits by.” You smiled slipping it around your neck, Ivar watched you with a look of hope, “When we go to Kattegat I’ll make you one of your own.”

You smiled at the weight of it and snuggled down against him with a smile, “Sleep, I’ll wake you before dawn.”

The fingers carding through your hair lulled you to sleep with the scent of sex and Ivar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be Sloth but I am weak.
> 
> blóm - flower


	6. Why

The palest shade of blue hazed the darkness of night, Ivar had only dozed with the feeling of you in his arms and the floor at his back. It wasn’t sleeping but enough to make him still, make him calm. Despite all his longing you’d have to leave soon, you’d rolled onto your back in the hours between your hair spilling about you where it pleased. He didn’t get to see you properly in the darkness but in the rising hours he gulped hard at the sight of your body laid bare while he sat up carefully. His finger ran along your cheek then dove into your disheveled hair feeling the strands and easing the various knots as he went. The small tilt of your head and soft hum caused a grin to play at the edges of his mouth.   
He wanted to wake you but couldn’t deny the burning in his blood over your naked body, rolling over you was easy as you still sleep addled mind subconsciously adjusted to the weight. Ivar was slow, cautious in nudging your thighs apart despite the sigh you hadn’t opened your eyes instead stretched lazily your back arching up off the ground, legs instinctively cradling his waist. Ivar grinned looking at the bruises dancing across your neck and collarbone where he’d marked you, looking at your hips where his fingerprints stained your flesh.

Ivar’s lips trailed the valley of your breast, light kisses to under your breast his fingers skimming beneath the other. He froze at the small snicker for a moment and looked up at the woman gazing down at him.

“Morning.” He whispered almost purring at the fingers now carding through his hair. 

“Is it already?” Your voice sounded less desperate than you felt, “We have a little time don’t we? Although I don’t think you’re willing to do whatever you’re thinking.” 

The grin against your stomach as he gently drew one of your legs over his shoulder, “Why is that blóm?”

“I’m dirty.” The words came out as a sigh while lips mouthed at the inside of your hips, the slow simmer that your body had woken to was quickly being stroked into a sharp flame.

A flat tongue drew across your abdomen making you jump with the chill that followed and softly groan, “You taste like salt and fucking and mine.”

He didn’t give you chance to protest as his fingers danced against your sex the motion making your hips jerk up and eyes close at the rush of want thrumming under your skin. His fingers were agonizingly slow, teasing against your clit watching you writhe under the stroking. It only took few moments until you were soaking with need and back to biting your lip in attempt to stop the whine of appreciation. You wanted to blame how easy it was to bring your body alight on how long you’d been from the thrill of orgasm but there wasn’t any denying on how wanton that he made you. 

Ivar smirked at the whines you tried to hold back, his fingers slicking through the drag of your hot cunt as you rolled your hips up desperate for more. He felt you soaking with need and watching your struggling to keep yourself silent while his touch demanded the clench of your muscles around his fingers. You felt like screaming at the pressure settling in between your hips, something tightening in you like a knot, much to your frustration that the painstakingly slow pace was all he was willing to give.

“You’re doing so good, Y/N.” You gasped as you back arched up, nails dragging down the ground on either sides of your head for fear that if you tangled them in his hair the grip might actually hurt him or make him move from between your legs and you would kill him if he did.

“Ivar.” his name dripped from you lips, plea, prayer anything to get him to move faster.

You hands flew to your mouth and you bit down hard as he replaced his finger with his tongue, spearing into your wet heat, lapping down the mess between you thighs. The scream was muffled thankfully and you sent a silent prayer that the guards were changing or were wrapped up in something to ignore you. The blush on your cheeks worsened at the slurping sound when he pulled away, reveling in how your hips followed wanting more. Ivar was clever and a fast learner and it wasn’t a wonder to how he read your body in an instant and slipped two thick fingers into you heat. The consistent curl of the rough appendages forced your hips to buck to the movement in desperation for him to hit that spot.  
The anguished cry of your rapture mournfully muffled as his mouth dragged back up your lush folds to fasten around your pearl, the crook of his motions poured you into a mess of pleas. The sob of his name spilled into the air that bore the fire swelling to a crescendo it burned away everything but the searing heat of his mouth and hands on you body. Ivar felt you writhed against him long legs simultaneously shaking and clamping tight around his head as the savory tang of your orgasm splashed against his tongue and coated his chin he moaned into the taste. Your teeth broke skin and blood lingered in your mouth as you slumped back against the floor from the nearly painful arch the rush had dragged you up into. 

Ivar was lying with his head against your abdomen slowly nuzzling your thighs and stomach. Bringing a shaking hand to his face you gently threading your fingers through his hair, a sated smile on you lips. He couldn’t help the lewd motion of licking his lips the blush it caused on your face was too precious.

“A very good morning.” You hummed at Ivar’s growl playfully dragging his teeth and lips up your abdomen leaving a sticky trail of cum from his mouth that chilled across your skin in goosebumps. 

Ivar only wiped it away when plush lips hovered over yours the taste not slacking the lustful moan that he devoured sweeping into your mouth, “I can’t believe you did that.” You gave a playful tug on some loose strands of hair.

“You taste like sun.” He brushed his nose against yours and you shuddered at the slight canter of his hips feeling the hot cock pressed against your lower lips still so sensitive.

“You feel like heaven.” He smirked at the way you termed the slide of his cock against you and despite the hiss of oversensitivity you still bucked up against him, “And one day I’ll get my mouth around you but I need you in me.”

Ivar would forever deny the whimper playing in the from his throat as you rolled him onto his back gently. The light that threatened the sky made you want to scream beyond frustration, you’d never liked having to go quick especially with something this toe curling good but daybreak wasn’t waiting on anyone despite how desperately you’d plea. The sharp ache of being left wanting was brutally flung away at the sudden fullness of him. You pitched forwards hands resting on either side of his head as the stark pace slammed you together. The drag of your clit along with the way his cock pressed insistently against your womb left you a shuddering mess of want already. You were desperately attempting to keep pace but your mind hazed at the snap of his hips below you. 

The whine was loud and dangerous but you couldn’t find it in you to care, one large hand gripped your thigh the other wrapped delicately around your neck, the Viking was reveling in the moan as Ivar squeezed hard enough to silence and dizzy but not hurt. You trusted him not to hurt you, gave yourself to him and the pounding blood in your ears drowned out any panic you might have felt. The orgasm rushed up vibrant, desperate, impatient and consuming as the hands that had been resting on Ivar’s chest to use as balance turned lethal at the sharp nails digging into his skin. You’d be thankful of the hand on your throat to silence the wail that wanted to escape instead just left your tantalizing image above him.   
Head tilted back, hand wrapped around your throat, with your back arched pressing your breast into the surprisingly chilling air making your rosy nipples budded, the flush of red that followed your orgasm. The clench of you around him tore the pleasure from his very soul as heat painted your insides, not helping the fact of your hips still gently rolling dragging out his rapture as long as you could before it all became too much. His hand left your throat and instead trailed absentmindedly down your chest, the stomach, then the swell of your hips where you still perched on him. 

“Sunrise is soon.” The truth made you nod weakly, “You’re going to have to leave, pet.”

“Do you think we could convince the sun to stop?” He smiled at the thought before bringing you down to his lips. 

The kisses you’d shared had always held an undertone of heat, and in the past night and the rising of the morning had been nothing but so searing that they could dry the ocean. Now? Now there was something sweet, slow, soft to the way his chapped lips pressed against yours. There was the danger. The risk of something more than desire coiling in your gut. He kept his forehead pressed to yours for a moment, his hands stroking your sides gently. 

“You need to leave.” He needed you to leave on your own because there was only a thin, weak thread to keep him from driving back into you the second you would let him. 

“I know.” You whisper was hoarse as you slowly moved from him not caring of the mess that was between your thighs instead reaching for your chemise and slipping it on before snatching up your overcoat.

It wasn’t easy leaving him, much more the room, the guards were on rotation to your luck and you crept back into your bed. You’d take a bath later, you were too exhausted for anything else but sleep. Before falling into the caress of blackness that was offered with sleep something occurred that he’d never actually taken his pants all the way off. You’d have to work on that. And then you fell into dreams.

Ivar twisted and twined on the ground for a moment pulling and lacing up the fabric of his pants far too thankful that you were both to enraptured with the other for you to care. It was one thing to see his legs clothed another to be bare and vulnerable under your touch and gaze. Sitting up made him hiss, the scratches and bitemarks burning along with the scrapes of being ridden on a harsh floor. He felt drowsy, drugged almost and was understanding why his brothers paraded around with such smiles on their faces after bedding a slave girl, the aches in his body although sore felt good in a way he wasn’t used to. It was like a hard lesson with a new weapon but this felt better and for the moment no knives were involved. 

He dragged himself lazily atop his not so lonely plank grabbing at the loose shirt, Y/N’s keeper -Maude- would bring a bath and he’d lay in it to ease the pain and warm him. Until he had to wake he was wonderfully content to let the break of dawn spill into the room, the men unknowing of the unbridled woman he’d had below him and on him. Nor the small grin as something foreign tightened in his stomach, possession he idly thought moments ahead of delving into dreams. 

You’d expected to dream of the little girl and walking up the clouds on invisible ground, what you got was blood. The battlefield you were standing on had countless bodies in various states of death. Some twitched, some still clinging desperately to life and others were resigned to their fate of death waiting to be taken away. Yet it was only the dead none was left of the army that spilled through the valley. Your weren’t in a dress, instead breeches and a shirt with the heavy weight of a quiver filled to brim with arrows on your side. The bow had been broken already, somewhere between using it as a shield and using the string to strangle someone. A large crow landed atop on of the bodies, the armor making it’s feet ‘tink’.

“Can you help me?” It cawed a harsh and sudden sound, “Where is everyone?”

“He can not help you if you can not speak to him.” A man was at your side robed in black with a large brimmed hat, he was terrifying though you can not see his face. 

“I only meant -” He raised his hand and you sighed awaiting what he’d to say.

“When you have need of the words, need of his tongue then find me. I won’t be far.” The old man left and the crow leapt to your face startling you awake with a gasp.

The motion made you wince with your body tender from the treatment you’d dealt on it while the sound of splashing water into a tub filled your bedroom, “It’s rather late m’lady, and you werena in your bed last night. Shall I make a guess as to where you’d slipped out to?”

Maude. Of course. Because why not? Though half of you expected it, the fact that you’d been with Ivar last night would have been nice to be kept between you, him, and the painful floor -“You have eyes in walls and an ear in Hell.”- You accused as she ‘tsk’ed.

“I thought you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.” The old woman rubbed her temples at the protest that it was safe because he had protection of his own unlike Joseph, “I don’t approve, in the slightest let me get that thought aloud. Have you thought that maybe you might be caught? Worse punishments than a slap for bedding a man like him.”

“I didn’t get caught.” You growled easing yourself out of the bed and into the bath gently with her steady help, “I won’t get caught.”

“Says you. You need to think of these things m’lady, at least warn me next time so’s I can come up with a diversion or such.” Her voice droned while she rubbed lavender soap on your back delicately with it’s scratches. 

“You’re not going to stop me?” The shock in your voice was evident as she chuckled slowly. 

“I’ve a feeling it would take and act of God to keep you two separated ‘specially with his little charm dangling ‘round your neck.” She plucked at the leather cord while you fiddled with the hammer, “ Least I can do is keep you safe the best I knows how. Meaning you can’t see each other every night.”

“Is this what you did for my mother?” Maude didn’t say anything so you sank under the water to wet your hair, coming up she washed it gently, “I’m sorry.”

“ You’re curious bout her, it’s just...my heart is a little too old for a lot of talk of that wildling just yet.” You nodded as she continued to help make a tight schedule and plan for how you would be able to see Ivar as much as you wanted but not tonight which frustrated you but you ceded, Maude had the upper hand in experience so with her word you’d go. 

“Y/N!” The excited shout of your sister pulled a startled yelp out of you as she burst open the door while you were reaching for the outstretched towel Maude had made ready for you.

“Judith! For the love of christ woman turn around!” She did as asked but not before being able to see the extent of Ivar’s bruises on your skin.

Your sister listened to your mutters and growls of irritation while you slipped on your dress, only turning around when you bid looking at you brush out your hair, “Well those are new.” you knew what she was talking about, “I just came to tell you Aethelwulf has sent for King Ecbert, he should be here in four days but apparently you have something more interesting.”

“It’s nothing.” You snarled at the smirking woman. 

“The bite mark above your breast indicates otherwise. Tell me who was it, a soldier. I bet it was, you’ve always weakness for something forbidden.” Your eyes narrowed at her into deadly slits, “Oh stop it, I won’t tell a soul, now come on it’s almost midday already.”

Your sister whisked you away from a sympathetic looking Maude. The day seemed to drag, the sun mocking as it slowed it’s trek across the sky. Judith’s endless talking only received ‘hms’ and Alfred won his game of chess three times in a row. To most everyone you were seemingly docile with Aethelwulf no doubt crediting his ‘punishment’ as actual effectiveness. It was only when Maude had said you were to be given a message after dinner did you really ‘wake’ from the long slow movements and feeling of day.  
It was hard to contain the excitement as you trekked down the halls, Maude in tow making small talk to disguise the real reason behind your thrilling joy. The moment the large door of your room closed you pounced upon her with rapid questions and a rising tone of elation made her smile. 

“Your Viking is a rude thing.” You chuckled at her chiding, “But he is in agreement, looked rather upset not to see you tonight might I add? Just remember, it’s all well and good until feelings get involved. Make sure that you don’t get mixed up between lust and love alright dear?”

“I saw the first boy I lusted for beheaded, I know the difference.” Despite saying it didn’t mean you felt any better about the unfurling warmth in your chest mind falling easily to the Viking on his cold plank in a surprisingly warm room, “ I can see him tomorrow though can’t I?”

Maude cocked her hip and frowned as usual but nodded, “I don’t see why not but it’ll be late at night.”

Part of you wanted to say you’d crept into his room late already but decided to keep it to yourself as you were all to certain that she knew regardless. If the day had been creeping the night was going to be agony but it would go and you would finally be away from the sloth like hours. 

Ivar had been staring at the room, counting the bricks, fiddling with his buckles, thrumming his fingers on the wooden plank below. It was only when Maude had walked in with large buckets of water and assistance with the tub did his sour mood lighten a little. The ritual went calmly, tub down, water fills tub, others leave except for Maude that turned to a raging inferno of motherly instinct and protection.

“How dare you even think to kiss Y/N much less bed her?!” She had almost screeched at the boy that suddenly felt three feet tall, “How could you ruin her like that!? You aren’t going to be the one who takes the whipping for this! There are worse things than her gettin slapped around there is!”

“She’s not a child, she knew what she was getting into. And any who dare lay hand on her will die. Simple as that.” He watched the old woman’s eyes turn dead and her jaw set, before he could move away from the silent rage that had stalked to him she snatched him up to look face to face with her. 

“You can’t do anythin. You don’t have a weapon, you don’t have an army, you don’t have any standing here. The only reason Aethelwulf hasn’t tried to tear you apart is because he thinks you useless.” The snarl that rose in her throat was chilling as she dropped him back to the plank, “That girl is my life. I’ll not see her thrown to the wolves because of a reckless decision.”

“Didn’t exactly feel like a reckless decision on my half.” His grin was smug and she growled.

“Have care boy because I will kill you if you break her. Don’t play with m’lady’s heart, fuck her then make her leave. I’ll not have foolish emotion mixed into this death trap.” Maude’s face grew dark, her boney body seemed large and her anger roiled around her.

“Like it or not she’s already got a part of me, and I’ve gotten more than enough of her.” He pulled off his shirt and bluntly displayed the patchworks of scratches, bites, bruises, hickeys crossing every part they could get, “And this isn’t my back. You won’t stop me, damn well not going to stop her.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve done worse in my days, why no’ just find ways to keep you part? I could, easily.” Maude did have a point, if she wanted she could tear everything from the foundation up but the threat gave a look of killing intent to her eyes and Maude felt her soul clench at the realization of what had already happened.  
She turned on heel not giving him time to speak but before reaching the door she paused, “She won’t be able to see you tonight but tomorrow.”

Why shouldn’t I? Ivar huffed at the question while crawling to the tub and stripping off the clothes, the water was warmer today as he carefully sank into it to his nose. Why shouldn’t she? Why did it bother him so much not to see Y/N tonight? Why so defensive of if she was ‘punished’? Why’d he given her the necklace so close to him, tell her that his Gods would protect her? He tried to stop the raging that kept swirling in his head and forced the sensation of warmth the memory of her caused in his chest. That was a dangerous feeling he was daring. One that he’d find a pillow and bare down until it stopped kicking. He had to. Ivar risked many things. He didn’t want to risk the shred of his heart.   
It didn’t matter that she was beautiful, it didn’t matter that she smiled and it rivaled the sun, it didn’t matter that when she laughed about a stupid joke he made, it didn’t matter that she saw him. It didn’t matter. 

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.” Ivar reached for his collarbone where the necklace would stay but stopped halfway having given the familiar piece of home with you, “Fuck.”

 

He dared the thought of that just past the pretty words...she mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter and there are realizations involved leading up to some very difficult to write stuff! Yay...


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